


Slow Ripening Fruit

by PhoenixFalls



Series: Just As They Wished It To Be [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Closeted Character, Coming Out, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, MIT Era, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Recreational Drug Use, Rhodey has a temper, Tony Stark is a Pornomancer, Various OCs - Freeform, You know what they say about assumptions. . .
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFalls/pseuds/PhoenixFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter of 1985: Reagan's president, Madonna's #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, and Tony and Rhodey are still learning to navigate their friendship at MIT.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Ripening Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the direct sequel to "[A Lonely, Lost Thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/689504/chapters/1266507)," and I don't think the climax will make sense without having read that one. (That fic is also where the OCs come from, but all you really need to know is that David is Rhodey's roommate and Grace is David's girlfriend.)
> 
> As with that fic, I can't promise I'll be able to finish this quickly, but since it's episodic and pretty much plotless I hope the waiting won't be terribly painful.
> 
> Many thanks to [51stCenturyFox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/51stCenturyFox/pseuds/51stCenturyFox) for answering all my questions about the Air Force, even when I didn't end up using the information! Anything I've still gotten wrong is completely my fault, most likely because it didn't occur to me to ask.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey's friends all seem to think Tony needs mothering. Tony thinks Rhodey's the one who needs a bit of help taking care of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is a fill for [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/7940.html?thread=15372804#t15372804) at AvengerKink, which asked for Rhodey/Tony hurt/comfort with Rhodey as the hurtee. And while the next chapter will have non-explicit underage sex, this chapter is entirely gen and should stand alone if you don't want to read any further.

Rhodey still wasn’t back from break.

Tony stood in the hallway and glared at the locked door, arms crossed over his chest. The [Independent Activities Period](http://web.mit.edu/iap/about/index.html) started in the morning, and Rhodey had said he was going to be back for it, but it was nearly 10 pm and he still hadn’t arrived.

He was just turning to head back to his dorm in disappointment when a surprised “Tony?” stopped him. He looked up to see Grace standing at the top of the stairs, arms full of take-out boxes. “What are you doing here?”

Tony shrugged and stepped back so Grace could pass him in the narrow hallway. David was right behind her, carrying more food, and following after him was an Asian guy Tony didn’t know with a six-pack of Coke. “Just stopped by to see if Rhodey had gotten in yet.”

David squeezed past Tony and Grace and fumbled his keys out of his pocket. “His train doesn’t get in until almost one.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, it was good to see you guys again. Happy New Year, I’ll see you around.”

But Grace was standing right in front of him, blocking his retreat. “You should come in and eat with us. We ordered plenty.”

Tony shook his head. “Thanks, but I ate at the dining hall already.”

But Grace wouldn’t take no for an answer. “You’re still growing, you should eat again.” She pried one of the boxes open a bit and waved it under his nose. “Come on, doesn’t it smell good?

“I’m really not a stray cat you know, to be lured into your home, given a flea bath and a bowl of warm milk, then neutered.”

Grace raised a fairly devastating eyebrow. “You better not have fleas. Bug bites always scar on my legs. Now go sit at James’s desk and let me feed you.”

Tony tamped down on his irritation, sighing dramatically but doing as Grace ordered. He just wanted to see Rhodey, the almost three weeks apart itching under his skin after spending so much of the fall seeing each other nearly every day. But Rhodey wasn’t here, and now he had to actually interact with people. And he really wasn’t hungry. “Fine. But there better be something fried in there.”

~I~

Tony didn’t see Rhodey until late the following afternoon. He had just finished picking up some art supplies and was at loose ends for the rest of the night when he spotted Rhodey walking quickly in his direction. Rhodey hadn’t seen him yet, so Tony ducked back into a classroom to lie in wait.

When Rhodey passed in front of Tony’s door, Tony jumped out in front of him and shouted triumphantly, “You have returned to me!” Then he jumped into Rhodey’s arms.

Rhodey staggered, but locked his arms under Tony’s ass just in time to keep them both from going sprawling, so Tony just grinned at his splutter.

“What the hell, Tones?” As soon as Rhodey registered who was in his arms, he let go and pushed Tony off. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Hey, I’m just doing my part to keep our armed forces battle ready here, you should be thanking me for selflessly risking life and limb to test your reflexes!”

Rhodey grinned and reeled Tony back in, getting him in a headlock and giving him a nuggie. “It’s good to see you, man! You have a good Christmas and New Year?”

“Eh, the usual, got trotted out like a show pony at the S.I. parties and left alone the rest of the time. Hey, did your family get my present all right?’

“ _Yes_ , we got it, Jesus Christ, Tony, that basket must have weighed forty pounds. I really do _not_ want to know what you paid for it, all right? My mom sent something back with me for you, but I’ve gotta warn you it doesn’t even begin to compare.”

Tony pushed himself out of the headlock, the better to make grabby hands. “Ooooo, you have a present for me? Where is it, where is it, I want it, I need it—“

“It’s in my suitcase, back at the dorm.”

“So let’s go get it!”

Rhodey shook his head, eyes twinkling. “I can’t right now, I’m already running late.”

“But Rhodey—“

“No, seriously, I gotta go. I’ve been running around campus all day, haven’t even had a chance to eat since last night. Your present will just have to wait until later.”

Tony pouted, but didn’t protest again as Rhodey took a half step back in preparation for walking away. His voice came out more plaintive than he would have liked. “When are you done?”

Rhodey looked at his watch, grimacing when he saw the time. “Um, not ’til eight. God I hope there are snacks at this next thing. . . Wanna meet at the dining hall then?”

“Yeah, okay.” Tony fiddled with his backpack, eyes steady on Rhodey’s face. “Eight o’clock, I’ll save you a seat.”

Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder. “It really is good to see you again.” Then he turned on his heel and strode off.

Tony sighed, then slung his backpack over his shoulder. Something crinkled, and just before Rhodey turned the corner he shouted out “Hey Rhodey! Wait up a sec!” and ran to catch up with him.

“What, Tony? Seriously, I gotta get going!”

Tony unzipped his bag and rustled through the notebooks and the tangle of wires to pull out the granola bar he kept for snack emergencies. “Here. Can’t have you wasting away before you give me my present, after all.”

Rhodey grabbed the bar and kissed it dramatically. “You are a lifesaver, Tones.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love me. Now go!”

Rhodey tossed him a sloppy salute. “Sir, yes sir!” He pulled Tony in for another hug, lightning quick, then he was gone, practically running down the hall, tearing open the wrapper and eating half the bar in a single bite.

~I~

Tony had not missed dining hall food. MIT’s dining halls were marginally better than Andover’s had been, but both were so far below what either Mr. Martin at the L.A. house or Mrs. Bianchi at the New York mansion cooked that Tony hesitated to call what they served food at all. Even Rhodey, still complaining about how hungry he was, wrinkled his nose at the pile of limp spaghetti and vaguely grey meatballs on his plate before digging in.

As they ate Tony let his mouth run for the sheer joy of talking at someone whose eyes didn’t glaze over in the first three minutes. Rhodey’s expression of fond indulgence wasn’t quite what Tony was aiming for — he really preferred to inspire a mixture of awe and lust — but it still made him feel a bit warm and gooey inside. So did the present from Rhodey’s mom, a patchwork scarf in MIT colors, which Tony wrapped around himself immediately when Rhodey pulled it out of his suitcase.

Tony was just making himself comfortable on Rhodey’s bed to watch Rhodey unpack when David and Grace swung by the room to pick up an extra layer of coats. They were headed out to see the [First Night](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_Night) ice sculptures before they melted, and invited Rhodey and Tony along.

It was way below freezing, and Tony’s complaints about the cold received absolutely no sympathy from Rhodey (who was born and raised in Chicago), David (who grew up in Connecticut), or Grace (who was from Queens). At some point Rhodey pulled Tony’s scarf off and rewrapped it in a surprisingly bulky knot that was much more effective at blocking that freezing trickle of air down Tony’s collar. Tony only had to duck his head a little to hide his pleased grin behind it.

Tony had to switch to a skip every couple steps to keep up with their ridiculously fast East Coast (and Midwest) strides — Rhodey insisted it was due to their longer legs, not geographically-based cultural differences — and before they had finished crossing the river his nose was running, but he still couldn’t fight down the grin. It lasted through Grace insisting they stop to take a picture with every single sculpture (apparently she liked to scrapbook) and even slipping on a patch of black ice, because Rhodey kept touching him — pulling down Tony’s hat to cover his ears better, poking Tony in the side to ruin his camera-friendly smile, slinging an arm over Tony’s shoulders to steer him around obstacles. It wasn’t quite the obviously besotted way that David & Grace were walking hand in hand, but fuck it was nice.

Around 11:30, David started agitating to get back to the dorm. In his disappointment, Tony couldn’t help but make a crack. “What, is it past your bedtime?”

David came back completely seriously. “It’s really important to get eight hours of sleep every night. It makes your brain sharper and your body healthier.” Which Tony knew already, thank you. But then David decided to fight dirty. “It’s even more important when you’re still growing. If you slept more, you might be taller, you know?”

“Low blow, dude, and I don’t buy the whole ‘you only grow while you’re sleeping’ thing anyway.”

Nevertheless, they turned back to campus, and by midnight Tony was back in his room alone, David’s admonishing “Go to bed!” still ringing in his ears. Irritated, Tony considered staying up all night just out of spite; but after forty-five minutes of desultory coding he decided there was little point. He had pulled plenty of all-nighters in the past, but only ever because he was caught in a fit of inspiration on a project and his adrenaline was up. Forcing one now just because David was treating him like a kid, well, that was probably a sign that he _was_ still a kid, and therefore counterproductive.

~I~

IAP was supposed to be a month of blowing off steam before spring semester started. Tony had gleefully signed up for two intro courses, drawing for engineers and blacksmithing; he had also signed up to write a program to compete in the Fifth Annual Othello Tournament. He was definitely going to the film series looking at the portrayal of women in superhero films before and after the declassification of Margaret Carter’s service record, because (a) superhero movies, and (b) there were sure to be lots of ladies there.

But Rhodey, over-achiever that he was, was taking for-credit courses for IAP, and not just pass/fail ones but ones that were given letter grades. He was busy from 9am to 6pm nearly every day, and insisted he had homework to do in the evenings. If anything, he seemed even more stressed and overworked than he had during the fall semester, and actually yelled at Tony when Tony swung by his room Saturday night with a six pack.

Tony was absolutely not pouting.

Because he had a keen strategic mind, he was absolutely not pouting from a sprawl on Rhodey’s bed, and when Rhodey turned away to rifle for something in his backpack Tony cracked open a beer and set it at Rhodey’s elbow.

Rhodey glared at him for that, but Tony pulled his best innocent face, and after a moment Rhodey softened and took a sip.

It was actually kind of nice, just sitting together without talking. The blinds were drawn against the night and the wind rattling the glass, and the only light in the room came from Rhodey’s desk lamp, giving everything a warm glow that for once had nothing to do with the alcohol they were drinking. Rhodey liked to work in silence, which Tony did not understand at all, but without the distraction of a radio Tony found himself fascinated by the interplay between the hiss of the radiator and the muted sounds of life outside Rhodey’s door.

(Okay, Tony might also have gotten a little high before coming over.)

Halfway through his second beer, Rhodey started yawning. Tony focused back on him in surprise, then checked the clock to see if he had lost time in his head, but it was only a little after eight.

“Does my Rhodey-bear need a nap? Is that why he was so grumpy and snarly earlier?”

Rhodey flipped Tony off without looking up from his work, though it lost some of its power when he yawned again.

“I’ve been busy, asshole. I don’t have time to sleep in every day like you.”

“Awwwww, poor baby. Should I get your blanky and tuck you in?”

Rhodey groaned longingly and lay his head down on his arms. “I wish.”

That made Tony sit up. “Seriously? You’re that wiped, dude? I can leave if you really wanna sleep — I mean, I’ll mock you forever for going to bed before nine, but if you want your bed I can find somewhere else to chill.”

Rhodey groaned again, head still on his desk. “I can’t. I _have_ to make some progress on this project, and then I need to study up on some basic ciphers for the Mystery Hunt, and I really should start reviewing my high school statistics notes ‘cause I’m taking sixteen-oh-nine this spring. . .” He trailed off into a moan.

Tony scrambled to the end of the bed in alarm, but then couldn’t decide if he should reach over the desk to hug Rhodey or pat him on the back. “What project are you working on? Is it for the [robots course](http://student.mit.edu/iap/fc16.html)? Maybe I can help, give you some hints about what S.I.’s working on right now. . .”

Rhodey sat back up and rubbed his face. “Nah. I have to do this myself.” He looked up and smiled wanly at Tony’s concerned expression. “Thanks though.”

Rhodey turned back to his work, and after a minute Tony settled back against the pillows. But he didn’t drift off in his head again. Instead he just watched Rhodey for a bit. It wasn’t exactly a hardship — his eyes trace the straight line of Rhodey’s eyebrows; lingered on the slight pout of Rhodey’s bottom lip; got distracted by the dexterity of his large but delicately-fingered hands wrapped loosely around his pencil.

Rhodey kept yawning, teeth stark white against his dark skin, and after a few minutes his head started drooping as well. His normally military-straight posture got worse and worse, his forearms started taking more of the weight of his torso, and Tony started to fear that he was going to topple out of his chair altogether.

Which would have been hilarious.

But when Rhodey actually started to snore against his own shoulder, Tony decided to take matters into his own hands. He jumped down from the bed waved his hands in front of Rhodey’s face to no response, then poked Rhodey in the side.

“C’mon dude, get in bed, you’re being ridiculous, you can take a nap then come back to all of this fresh.” Rhodey stirred, but only to bat Tony’s hand away weakly.

“‘M awake. . .”

“No, you really really aren’t, and you’re too big for me to pick you up and tuck you in so you gotta get yourself into bed.” Tony slid his hands into Rhodey’s armpits and lifted, and Rhodey shuffled his feet under himself to stand. A few judiciously-applied pushes got him into his bed, and though Tony was tempted to strip him out of his jeans so he’d be more comfortable, he decided Rhodey might feel that was crossing a line, so he left them.

He took a look at Rhodey’s notes, made a couple suggestions of his own on them, then turned off the light and let himself out.

~I~

“Fuck Tom Jernigan!”

Tony slammed his beer on the floor for emphasis, ignoring the way it splashed out of the can and over his hand. Nobody reacted, so he repeated himself a little louder.

“Seriously, fuck Tom Jernigan!”

This time one of Rhodey’s friends looked up blearily. He squinted at Tony for a moment from his seat by the desk, then mumbled, “Yeah. Fuck Tom whatever, and fuck Team Looney Tunes, too.” Then he laid his head down on his arms and started to snore.

Tony was in the middle of a serious pity party. It was Monday night in the last week of IAP, and he was coming down from (losing) the Othello Tournament that day, so he had sought Rhodey out to tag along with whatever he was doing. But Rhodey and a bunch of his AFROTC friends were just collapsed in one of their dorm rooms after spending the last 75 hours fruitlessly in the Mystery Hunt.

Rhodey rolled onto his shoulder on the floor in front of Tony, ignoring the wet spot where Tony’s beer had spilled, and poked Tony in the belly. “Why’re you being so _loud_?”

Tony pushed Rhodey’s hand away, then took another swig of his beer. “Because. . . because _fuck_ Tom Jernigan, and fuck his stupid program with its stupid logistic regression. . .”

Rhodey just laughed, rolling back onto his back and nearly spilling his own beer. “You are such a bad loser, Tony. You came in third! That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Ugh. Third. Rhymes with turd.” Tony tried to take another drink, but was foiled by the emptiness of his can. Rhodey was still laughing, so Tony grabbed his beer and drank that instead.

“Hey! That was mine, asshole. I was gonna drink that.”

“You weren’t gonna drink it, you were gonna spill it, because you are wasted, Rhodey, which is pitiful because you’ve only had two beers. Besides, you guys didn’t _even_ come in third in the Mystery Hunt.”

Tony thought Rhodey mumbled “‘M not wasted, ‘m tired. . .” but he was distracted by Nate, their host, settling down next to him and passing him and Rhodey a couple more cans.

“Hey, it’s not like we came in worse than third — they don’t hand out placements, the hunt just stops when somebody’s won. Team Chair Force might well have come in second.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Tony said with a grin, earning a hair ruffle.

Rhodey was staring at the unopened can Nate had set on his chest, perplexed. After a minute he very carefully set it down at his side, then turned back towards Tony & Nate. His elbow flew out and knocked the can over, and Tony had to disguise a laugh by taking another drink. Whether it was the alcohol or the exhaustion, Rhodey was awesome like this, sloppy and loose like Tony rarely got to see him.

But apparently he didn’t disguise his laugh well enough, because now Rhodey was frowning at him. He furrowed his brow, eyes moving from Tony’s mouth to the can still in his hand, then he turned to Nate.

“You. . . you’re contributing to the. . . the delinquency of a minor, man.”

Nate snorted. “I’m ‘contributing to the delinquency’ of two minors here, Jim. You aren’t legal to drink either.”

The guy who had seconded Tony’s “Fuck Tom Jernigan” lifted his head again. “Me too! Or three, whatever. . .”

Nate let out a bark of laughter. “See that Jim? Apparently I’m running a den of iniquity! Better get out while you can.”

Rhodey flipped him off, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. He patted around confusedly until he found his beer, which had rolled a few feet away. He had to lean back to reach it and he overbalanced, flailing his legs out to stop himself from falling over, and one of his feet caught Tony’s forearm, hitting the burn from his blacksmithing lessons. He hissed and shouted “Fuck!,” cradling his arm.

“Shit, Tony, I’m sorry. You okay?”

Rhodey scrambled up onto his knees, grabbing Tony’s arm and pushing up the sleeve to take a look. 

Nate reached up to grab his desk lamp, aiming a spotlight on the truly grotesque blister Rhodey had exposed. He gave a low whistle. “That is a thing of beauty, little man.”

Tony grimaced, but the pain was fading already so he pushed away Rhodey’s fluttering hands. “Yeah, it was way worse looking a couple days ago, all giant and full of pus and this really gross shade of yellow. . .”

“I didn’t make it worse, did I?” Rhodey asked.

“Nah, just stung a bit. . .”

Nate was angling the lamp this way and that, examining the burn closely. “I don’t know, it looks awfully red.” He thrust the lamp into Rhodey’s chest. “Hold that for me, Rhodes. Jones, reach under my bed and grab my first aid kit.”

Tony didn’t resist as Nate pulled his arm out again, but he did have to lodge a protest. “Seriously dude, it’s fine, I got it checked out at the health clinic, they said as long as I keep it clean and don’t expose it too much to the cold it should heal up good as new. . .”

Nate ignored him, just kept a firm grip on his arm with one hand while he held out the other for Jones to pass him the kit. Jones and the guy from the desk both gathered around to watch.

The kit was, of course, military-neat; Nate was able to grab the burn cream with only the barest glance. Tony suppressed a sigh of exasperation, because Nate rubbing the burn cream into his skin was fairly soothing and he did generally like it when attractive people touched him. But when Nate started to pull out the gauze he pulled his arm back sharply.

“Look, thanks and all, that feels better, but the doc said to leave it open to the air when possible, so I don’t need you to wrap it, all right?”

Rhodey started to put the lamp back, but Nate put a hand out to stop him, not taking his eyes off Tony. “Are you sure you’re remembering that correctly? It’s raw and weeping a little. Normally that sort of wound needs to be covered until it scabs.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes I’m sure, I have fucking pamphlet back in my room, seriously, it’s fine.”

Nate put the gauze down and settled back on his heels, but when Rhodey moved to put the lamp back again, Nate again stopped him.

“All right, what other burns are you hiding?”

That was enough. Yes Tony was young, but he wasn’t five. He had been keeping himself fed and taking himself to bed and caring for his minor injuries with only nominal adult supervision since he started Andover at age ten. He was willing to accept a certain amount of fussing from Rhodey, and a lesser amount from David and Grace, but this guy, who he had only met today, had no right to be this patronizing.

Tony slid on his public smile and stood. “That’s the only one. Thanks for the rub down, but I’m beat, it’s just about my bedtime and my bath won’t run itself. My condolences on your ignominious defeat, and I’m sure I’ll see you around.” And then he was out the door.

It wasn’t until he opened the door to the outside that Tony realized he had left his coat draped on Nate’s radiator. He hesitated for a moment, but he hated ruining his exit by slinking back for outerwear, so he pulled his sleeves down over his hands and started jogging.

He was halfway back to his dorm when he heard the shouting behind him.

“Tony! Get your ass back here, jerk!”

He pulled up short, windmilling his arms as his feet slid a bit on a patch of ice. “Rhodey?”

Rhodey was trotting easily down the walk. When he got close enough that he didn’t have to shout he continued. “Yeah it’s Rhodey, you asshole. You forgot your coat when you left in a huff.”

“And you came running after me with it? You do love me!” Rhodey made it within Tony’s reach and Tony threw his arms around him in thanks.

Unfortunately, he did at the exact moment that Rhodey’s foot hit the patch of ice, and the impact caused Rhodey to slip like just Tony had. But with Tony’s coat and Tony himself in his arms, Rhodey couldn’t keep his balance and they went down in a heap.

Tony landed on top and just lay there for a moment, catching his breath; he wasn’t careful with his elbows as he rolled off. “I take it back, you don’t love me, you are in fact a very sneaky assassin who has been lulling me into complacency all this time so that you can set up my death to look like a tragic winter accident. The question, I suppose, is who hired you, and whether or not you can be bought. . .”

Rhodey groaned but didn’t say anything else.

“Of course, maybe you’re not an assassin for mercenary reasons; maybe you’re being coerced somehow, your family held hostage or maybe just your dog, not that you’ve ever mentioned having a dog to me, but then, if your dog was being held hostage in exchange for your assassination skills you probably wouldn’t mention its existence to your target. . .”

Tony got his feet under him and was about to push himself back to his feet when he registered that Rhodey was too still.

“Rhodey? You okay, dude? I didn’t hit you too low, did I?”

There was a mildly terrifying moment when Rhodey was silent, then he groaned again. In the lamplight Tony could just make out a shadow spreading under Rhodey’s head.

It was dark red.

“Fuck, Rhodey, answer me, say something to let me know those aren’t your brains spilling out, all right buddy?”

That earned another groan, and finally Rhodey spoke. “Why’re you always so loud?”

Tony huffed a relieved laugh, then scrambled over to get a better look at Rhodey’s head. “Gotta make sure you can’t ignore me, you know?” He slid his hands between Rhodey’s skull and the walkway, ignoring the hot slick of Rhodey’s blood to feel for the edges of the wound. Thankfully it didn’t seem to be very large, despite the pool of blood. “I don’t know whether to be more impressed that you found the one bit of walkway that wasn’t salted heavily enough to slip on, or that your skull is hard enough to take the impact without cracking.”

Rhodey opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. “I hate you.”

“Aw, I love you too, honeybear.” It didn’t look like Rhodey was having trouble focusing on him even in the low light, so Tony got back on his feet then braced himself so he could pull Rhodey up. “C’mon, it’s freezing out here, and my dorm’s not much farther up the road, we’ll get you cleaned up and looked after, make sure you’re not gonna fall asleep and not wake up.” Rhodey staggered a little getting his feet under him, but Tony slid under his arm and grabbed him tight around the waist, and they steadied. “You think you can stand unsupported for a second? You came all this way to bring me my jacket, I figure I should put it on, and I think I heard your keys fall out of your pocket somewhere around here. . .”

Everything gathered up, Tony arranged himself to take some of Rhodey’s weight and got them moving slowly. He kept up a line of chatter while thinking through what he’d have to do next, thinking about where his first aid supplies were scattered, trying to remember if he had any clean t-shirts to turn into rags, running down what he knew about concussions and which symptoms were fairly benign and which were dangerous. Tony didn’t think Rhodey needed to go to the emergency room, but he should definitely spend the night so Tony could keep an eye on him. He could have Tony’s bed, and as soon as it got light out Tony would roust Will and get his opinion on Tony’s nursemaiding.

He’d be fine. Tony would make sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from this quote by Aristotle: “Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit.”
> 
> If you're curious about how my fic writing is progressing (or just want to say hi) feel free to [check me out on tumblr](http://phoenixfalls.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
